


The Best Laid Plans of Little Graysons

by PrairieDawn



Series: The Importance of Choosing the Right Pediatrician [7]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Argelians, Autistic Spock (Star Trek), Deep Fried Peaches, Dim Sum, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Glitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25867591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrairieDawn/pseuds/PrairieDawn
Summary: Sarek has been traveling or working on Embassy business every day for months. When he finally gets a day off, the kids conspire to ensure that he spends it with Amanda.
Relationships: Amanda Grayson/Sarek
Series: The Importance of Choosing the Right Pediatrician [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/870771
Comments: 31
Kudos: 76





	1. An Utterly Transparent Ruse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justalittlegreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/gifts).



> It took me long enough.

It is not paranoia if someone really is out to get you, Amanda reminded herself.

The house was silent, the children's rooms empty. Their beds were made, even Sol's. She padded out into the living room, still barefoot and wearing only her nightshift, half hoping to find them hiding behind furniture. Sarek had already reached the front door and held up a hand to stop her from coming forward any further. He opened the door and stepped out. “I thought I heard something moving outside."

She nodded. Her hands were knotting the fabric of her robe. She smoothed it deliberately.

“There is a note.”

Amanda could no longer stop herself from running to him. She clutched at Sarek’s arm and looked over his shoulder at the note. The first peculiarity was that it was written in Standard, which she would not have expected of logic extremists. The second took her a moment to be certain of. “That’s Solomon’s handwriting,” she remarked to Sarek.

“So it is.”

> **Ambassador Sarek and Lady Amanda Grayson,**
> 
> **Your children are safe. If you follow our instructions precisely they will return to you tomorrow. Your first assignment is to be at the Embassy Cultural Center at the second hour after daylight. Dress appropriately You will be given further instructions when you arrive.**
> 
> **The Trickster**

“Sarek,” Amanda said, a tickle of suspicion forming in her mind.

“Yes?” His brow was still furrowed just enough that she could see it, and she could feel his tension through their bond.

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t inform the Embassy, but it seems extremely unlikely that the children could have been spirited out from under our noses without them waking us, especially Solomon.”

“Are you suggesting they might have been induced to leave under their own power?”

“I’m suggesting that for Sol, Michael, and Spock to leave this house this early in the morning without alerting us would have required their cooperation.”

“If not conspiracy,” Sarek replied, catching her meaning at last.

She allowed herself a slight smile. “This is the first day in almost two months that you haven’t been fully occupied with travel or embassy business. This entire thing smells of Malkie and Birdie.”

“As I said, conspiracy.”

She let out a relieved sigh. “Well, if we’re to be at the Embassy Cultural Center in an hour we should be getting ready. I wonder what I ought to wear?”

“Given that there remains a four-point two percent chance the children have been kidnapped, I would suggest something elegant, but practical, in case we must move quickly. I believe that the majority of your attire qualifies.”

“Oh, Sarek,” she laughed, taking a moment, since they were in private and it irked him so much, to swat him on the behind for good measure.

He elected not to acknowledge her impropriety but instead made for the bedroom. She skirted around him to duck into the shower ahead of him, turned on the sonic, and set aside her hastily donned gown. Sonics were not as satisfying as water showers, no matter what Sarek said. The low hum of the sonic sufficed to settle her thoughts. Four and some other bits percent. She poked her head out of the bathroom. “You up to doing a quick safety check on the boys?”

“I have done so already. Sol is actively blocking me. Spock is in no distress I can detect. I believe the possibility that the children are in any unusual danger is negligible at this time.”

Unusual danger. There were, of course, all the usual dangers that eleven, nine, and five-year-old children could get into, especially their particular children. She allowed her husband an eye full of her naked form on the way to the wardrobe. to collect something appropriately elegant and practical.

"My wife, if you intend for us to reach our destination in a timely manner, perhaps you should not put yourself on such tantalizing display."

"Perhaps I'd like you to think about me all day long," she teased. He gave her the eyebrow and retreated to the shower himself.

Once dressed, she called up Embassy security. "I need to report an unusual occurrence at my home," she told the young security officer who appeared on the phone.

"Oh?" Ryn Grissom said, looking far too innocently curious.

"My children have gone missing. There's a note," she held it up for him to scan, which he did, dutifully but without the sense of urgency she would have expected. An accomplice, then. Curious.

"I'd suggest you follow the author's demands precisely," Grissom said, the corners of his lips tightening as he failed to contain his amusement.

Amanda smiled back sweetly. "Oh, we will, you can be sure of it. In the meantime, perhaps you might avail yourself of the opportunity to meditate. Your emotions are written all over your face."

The screen went unceremoniously blank. Well, that was one question answered, she thought wryly. She finished putting up her hair and took a book into the sitting room to wait for Sarek to put himself together. 

When he finally appeared, immaculate in russet and cream robes, she told him how Grissom had taken the news. "So the Embassy staff are enabling the children's machinations now?"

"Since when have they not?"

*

Michael Burnham peered out from the stand of trees just outside Sarek and Amanda's home, watching for her adoptive parents with her older brother by her side and her stray prone baby brother held in front of her. She saw the main house lights shut off as an aircar pulled up to the front door. Under her vise grip, Spock bounced with silent excitement. 

As soon as the car was out of sight, Sol burst into loud laughter beside her. Michael rolled her eyes at the display. "Are Malkie's parents coming for us soon?" she asked Sol pointedly.

"Yes, I sent them a message a minute ago. Quit being such a worrier."

"I am not worrying," Michael whispered back archly. "I would just rather not be consumed by a legally protected carnivore."

"I-Chaya's keeping watch," Sol said. "We're perfectly safe."

Malkie's mom drove up in an aircar and set down in front of the house. Michael chose to walk with some dignity to the vehicle. Spock broke free of her hold and ran to catch up with Sol. Somebody needed to put that kid on a leash. She climbed in after her siblings. "I am not watching Spock and Lala the whole time we're at the fair. You two have to take a turn."

"I'm always watching Spock," Sol countered.

"Knowing where he is and watching him are not the same thing, Solomon Grayson," Michael insisted.

Spock hunched lower in the seat beside Michael. "I do not require watching. I am not an infant."

"Uh huh, name all the foods you can't eat," Michael challenged.

Spock responded with a full, complete, and correct list. Michael sighed. "All right, what would you do if somebody tried to kidnap you?"

"Nerve pinch them."

"You can't do a nerve pinch yet," Sol said.

"Then I will bite them."

"Fair enough," Malkie agreed.

Birdie cleared her throat ominously. "There will be no biting, no pinching--even of the regular kind, Malkiah--and no getting kidnapped. We are having a lovely day out, just the six of us."

"And spying on our parents," Sol added with relish.

"And spying on your parents. We will go to the embassy to decorate, then have lunch at the street fair in the alien quarter."

"I want to do the labyrinth!" Lala shouted.

Beside Michael, Spock flinched. "Inside voice," Michael said quietly, but firmly.

"Sorry," Lala mumbled. She remained silent for a fraction of a second Michael felt a twinge of shame that she couldn't calculate exactly, then yelled, "I made flowers out of--"

Michael glared death at her.

"I made flowers out of tissue paper," she said in a more sedate tone. 

"I made pictures of dinosaurs and desert crawlers," Spock said in his soft voice.

"Well, that's romantic," Malkie said, rolling her eyes.

Birdie sighed. "Malkiah, don't pick on him, he's going to be your brother in law someday. I'm sure Sarek and Amanda will be delighted with your efforts, Spock."

"Father does not experience delight," Michael corrected archly.

Sol sputtered. "Father experiences a lot of things he won't admit to, Michael. Don't let him fool you."

"Father demonstrates impeccable control which you would do well to emulate, Solomon."

Solomon snorted, "What's the point? I'm leaving for Earth in two months and I am _never_ coming back."

"Never?" Spock mumbled, stiffening beside Michael.

"You can come visit Malkie and me in New York."

Spock hunched inside his robes. Michael whispered, "I'm not going anywhere."

He tilted beside her, just slightly into her side so that his shoulder rested against her arm. She let herself smile just a little.


	2. Lectures, Dim Sum and Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarek and Amanda continue their child-designed date.

.

The Embassy Cultural Center was brimming with colorful decorations and people this morning. There was a conference at which the newest Federation members were giving talks and demonstrations to illustrate important facets of their cultures--the conference appeared to have escaped the confines of the cultural center itself and spilled into a street fair extending a few blocks along the alien quarter's main pedestrian street. Amanda looked at Sarek and shrugged--this was the kind of event they often had to attend for diplomatic purposes. Perhaps the children thought they might like to do more of it on their day off. 

They entered the convention hall. Sarek stopped in front of the large screen showing the schedule. Amanda joined him, attempting to puzzle out exactly what they were supposed to do. A nondescript human gentleman approached Amanda and handed her a piece of paper, then departed into the crowd without a word. 

> Attend the Argelian's presentation. She will inform you of your next task. 

Argelians--weren't they Epicurean in philosophy--with a tendency to hedonism? She passed the note to Sarek, who nodded curtly and tucked it in a pocket. "This way," he said. They wove their way through the other attendees to a conference room around a corner and down a hallway.

"Finding a Synthesis of Pleasure and Work: Mai Karlek, Argelius" the sign outside the conference room read.

Amanda turned wryly to her husband. "Do you think someone is trying to tell us something?"

He inclined his head slightly. They entered the conference room and found seats. 

The usual quiet murmur of voices died away politely as a woman in a scandalously skimpy gown, especially compared to Vulcan norms, ascended to the podium. Her smile as she looked out over the group was warm and genuine. She began. "My respect and love to all those assembled here today. My name is Mai Karlek, and I am here to share a small piece of what we hold to be truth on my home world of Argelius. But first," She stepped put from behind the podium to perch on the edge of the stage, swinging her feet a little. "You know, I asked for cushions on the floor for all of us, not these chairs. So we'll have to improvise a bit. Would all of you mind working together to stack all of these chairs over by the walls, and then, ah, let's see, if you happen to be wearing yellow, come forward and distribute some of these meditation mats. They'll do nicely for us today."

Sarek and Amanda moved to assist in stacking the chairs along the side of the wall, and by the time they returned to the center of the room found that meditation mats had been laid out in concentric arcs. They took places on two adjacent mats. Mai Karlek circulated around the room. "Don't be too shy. I know Vulcans in particular avoid casual contact and for understandable reasons, but if you happen to be here with a bonded partner, there's no reason you can't share one mat."

A few couples, none of them Vulcans, cuddled up together according to her suggestion. Amanda stood, scooted her mat over until it just touched Sarek's and sat back down, figuring her solution was an acceptable compromise. Sarek gave her the eyebrow and she returned it with interest.

"Much better," Mai said. "So. Argelians have some philosophies in common with Vulcans. We are strict pacifists and put a great deal of effort into sublimating our violent impulses from earliest childhood. However, while I am given to understand that Vulcans seek to avoid all expression of emotion and find enjoyment a suspect motive, we feel that the sharing of love and joy are critical to maintaining inner peace and with it, peaceful relations with each other."

"I encourage you, thus, to consider with an open heart and the knowledge that I respect your beliefs even as I explain my own." She took a seat on her cushion. "In life, it is very easy to focus so much on what we must do that we push aside those activities that help us to restore our joy. Vulcans, in this regard, with their commitment to regular meditation, outdo the other core Federation species, who have a distressing habit of pushing themselves to do and do and do until they cannot do anymore. Very unhealthy, that."

"If you have come with a partner or friend, answer these questions aloud, to each other. If you are alone, join with a neighbor to discuss your answers. First question: What of your daily activities bring you a sense of joy, peace, or contentment?"

Amanda dutifully turned to her husband and said, "I enjoy it when you help me put up my hair. And of course, when I work on the little patio garden and oh, when the children come to tell me what they have learned in school."

Sarek's little sigh was probably not audible to anyone but Amanda. "I find myself experiencing contentment when you permit me to arrange your hair as well. I find that walking from the Embassy to our city apartment in ShiKahr provides a sense of peace."

When the talk died down, Mai continued, "On Argelius, we make an effort to call to mind those aspects of our day, the activities that bring us joy, and we actively seek out opportunities to give and receive happiness. We are fast developing a reputation for our celebration of those joys which come of the erotic impulse, but we also celebrate food and cooking, the making of beautiful objects and spaces, art and music."

"But what I wanted to discuss in particular is the answer to a question I have been asked many times. How do Argelians, with our commitment to pleasure and happiness, keep ourselves fed and our cities clean and well maintained. And to that I would say, we enjoy those tasks as well. There is pleasure in bringing to bear our strength and intelligence to countering entropy, even for a little while. Our bodies and spirits are fed by our gardens, soap bubbles contain rainbows, clean windows catch the light, and even an objectively disgusting task is a gift to others and to the self of tomorrow."

Amanda could understand what the Argelian was getting at, but she still had to use all the control she had learned from Sarek over the years not to roll her eyes. The talk went on in similar fashion for another hour, then Mai led them all on a guided meditation. At the break, Mai approached the two of them. "Ambassador, Lady Amanda, it's good to see that you have arrived. Did you find the presentation illuminating?"

Sarek nodded gravely. "It contributed to our understanding of your people, and the ways in which our beliefs are in harmony."

Amanda was impressed. Following his lead, she said, "I am interested in your approach to balancing the need for productive effort with the need to--renew body and mind. And I agree that most humans and Vulcans work too hard." She turned pointedly to Sarek at the last.

"And you with, what is it, three children?" Mai noted. "It must be difficult for you to find time to yourselves."

"The children are for the most part no burden, though Spock still has a habit of taking unauthorized field trips. I don't know what we'll do when he learns to operate a vehicle."

"By that time, it is to be hoped that he will have embraced the logic of obeying his parents," Sarek said pointedly.

Mai nodded. "I had a chance to observe his explorer's soul," she remarked cryptically. "Ah, I nearly forgot. This is for you." She gave them a piece of paper on which Spock's wobbly attempt at Vulcan script proclaimed that they were to go to the Golden Le Matya at midday for dim sum. Or Else.

"Or else what?" Amanda wondered aloud.

"Clearly, or else we will be deprived of dim sum," Sarek noted.

*

Michael surveyed her siblings' handiwork with qualified satisfaction. The decorations, in her opinion, were altogether too much pink and red and sparkle to be entirely tasteful, but she had been outvoted on the color scheme. Sol and Malkie sprinkled their silver and gold paper creations on every available surface, while Lala and Spock stuck their artwork to the walls as high as they could reach. Michael put some effort into hiding her contributions in out of the way spots around the large room.

"I'm hungry," Malkie declared, jumping down off a table after affixing a twist of crepe paper near the ceiling.

Birdie stood by the door with Michael to survey the room. "I think we've made our point," she said. "Shall we head outside?"

Sol, Malkie, and Lala stampeded for the door. Spock, oblivious to the rest of the goings on in the room, sat on the floor, entirely engrossed in picking flecks of glitter off his clothes and body.

Michael sat down on the floor with him. "Hungry?"

"There are glitters on me," he complained quietly. He made a vigorous but futile attempt to shake them off.

"The sonic will take them off when we clean our hands," she said.

"Want them off now," he whispered. 

"Okay, we can do that." She caught Birdie in the doorway. "I'm gonna toss Spock in the sonic for a minute or two to shake the glitter off him. Meet you downstairs."

Looking after Spock when Amanda wasn't around used to fall almost entirely on Sol, but as he'd gotten older and Malkie started getting all teenagerish they'd withdrawn into their own little world half the time and Michael had inherited baby brother duty.

Spock found the bathing suite and was already moving to shuck his tunic when she stopped him. "Keep your clothes on and the sonic will take the glitter off them too."

"It is not appropriate to use the sonic cleanser while clothed," Spock said.

"It is logical, though," she countered. He wrinkled his brow in distaste, but did as he was told. The glitter shook out of his hair, off his hands, and down from his clothes to dust the floor with red and gold. After a little less than a minute, she shut off the sonic and helped him out. "See, it worked!"

"We will be late," he said.

"Stay by me," she warned, "Or I will make you hold my hand."

*

"That excursion had Solomon written all over it," Amanda said as the aircar they'd summoned pulled up to take them to Spock's favorite restaurant.

"Indeed. I would not be surprised if he discussed us in inappropriate detail with the Argelian speaker."

"That seems uncomfortably likely," she agreed. "I hope my parents know what they're getting into."'

"As do I."

The air car pulled up at a gaudily decorated restaurant with a pair of gold le matya statues flanking the door. Despite the very unVulcan decoration, it was in fact a very good restaurant, with proprieters who seemed to take an almost Argelian delight in sharing their skills with visitors from a multitude of worlds. The activity in the alien quarter was a welcome sight given that the area had been the target of extremist harassment only a few years before.

A cheerful teenager led them to their seats. "I've been instructed to remind you that the bean buns are excellent."

"I'm sure you have," Amanda said wryly.

"Would either of you care for wine with your meal?"

"I'll have a glass of white, thank you, Laura."

"Of course, Lady Amanda."

"Water," Sarek said, unsurprisingly.

Carts containing various small tidbits circulated around the tables. Amanda collected a vegetable dumpling and a piece of crisp, deep fried broccoli. She watched Sarek deftly handle his chopsticks, remembering a visit to a similar restaurant on Earth back when they were courting. He had insisted on using the local method to bring food to his mouth rather than resorting to more familiar utensils. It had taken most of the meal, but he had mastered the chopsticks and had insisted on taking her to the same restaurant weekly as long as they were on Earth in order to practice--though she suspected he also harbored a fondness for tofu stir fry.

Spock, on the other hand, was all about the bean buns since toddlerhood. At two, he had been unable to operate chopsticks, but already knew not to touch food with his hands. He considered picking up the buns with his mouth to be a logical solution. Amanda had pictures secreted away for future blackmail purposes.

Sarek was not one for small talk at the table, or anywhere else, precisely. He did turn to her between courses to note, "You are particularly aesthetically pleasing in that fabric."

She lowered her eyes graciously, feeding her blush a little by noting his attention. "I could look at you all day," she responded.

At the close of their meal, they were given a plate containing three bean buns, one a bit larger than the others. When they cracked open the largest bun, there was a note inside. "Your next destination is three intersections to the south of the Golden Le Matya. You should be able to hear the music."

Amanda left a thank you note for Laura and a review for the meal that would go to the ministry in charge of amenities in the alien quarter, then she and Sarek made their way outdoors. It was merely warm outside and smelled strongly of the desert flowers that bloomed briefly and exuberantly in response to the midwinter rainy season. She could hear nothing out of the ordinary.

"This way," Sarek said, taking her arm in a nearly human fashion. They strolled down the sandstone paved street between craft and food stalls. As they walked, the number of non Vulcans increased, until Sarek was distinctly in the minority. Music reached Amanda's ears, acoustic and unenhanced by amplification.

Swing? She grinned and turned to her bondmate. "Is that what I think it is?" She skipped ahead a few steps to the corner and looked down the block to the courtyard that doubled as a gathering space. The large sandstone building at the end of the block, a conservatory, had been built with a concave wall facing the courtyard, shaped to naturally funnel and enhance sound coming from the stage.

Sarek caught up to favor her with a paradoxical expression somewhere between delight and consternation. "It is certainly an informal environment," he noted. Nonetheless, he took her arm and led her to peruse the craft stalls with him. She found a table displaying decorative calligraphy and was so absorbed she failed to notice Sarek was no longer at her side.

It had been years since they'd felt the need to leave Shi'kahr because of the rise in extremism and the terrorist attacks which still seemed unimaginable on Vulcan. Matters had calmed considerably since their return, but the first thoughts that went through her head upon turning and finding him absent had not been pleasant ones. She swallowed the involuntary lump rising in her chest and forced herself to continue her stroll down the block toward the music, alert but trying not to be more concerned than the situation warranted.

By the time she spotted Sarek at a stall displaying geological specimens he had already sensed her distress and was turning to rush back to her side. "My wife, are you unwell?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, Sarek, I wish I wasn't still jumping to frightening conclusions at the slightest provocation."

He pressed his fingers to hers gently, allowing a bit more than the usual flow of emotion between them, deliberately sharing his serene space until she regained her equanimity. "I still believe you should see a healer. Your sympathetic nervous system remains hyperreactive."

She choked out a laugh and shook her head. "I never got used to having strangers poking around in my head."

They started walking again toward the courtyard, where dancers whirled in complicated patterns in response to called instructions. "Amanda, would you consider my brother a stranger?"

She considered for a moment. "Isn't he off-world?"

"He returned four days ago to practice with Lewis and T'Zir."

"It's Lewis, now, is it?"

"The human physician and I have found common interests in art and literature. In addition, his demeanor is far less rabidly emotional than that of most humans."

"I'm glad. I mean that you've made a friend, not that Lewis Schoenbein makes a better than average Vulcan without even having to work at it."

They walked in silence for a little longer. "You failed to answer my question," Sarek noted.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" she said.

"I am not."

She blew an errant lock of hair out of her face. "Fine. I'll talk to Sovar. If that will make you," she stopped before the word happy could come out of her mouth, "content."

"It would."

He owed her now, and she planned to collect while she had his full attention. "Dance with me," she said with a grin.

Sarek's gaze fell on the whirling dancers. There was the slightest hesitation, as if he might make her work for it even though she knew very well he found dancing to be 'an acceptable form of physical exercise' and dancing with her to be one of the more satisfactory duties required of an Ambassador. "Very well," he said, failing to sound long suffering in the slightest. He took her arm and moved with her to the edge of the courtyard to watch for a minute or so, then caught her up and whirled her into the crowd.


	3. The Search for Spock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And he's gone again. Predictably.

Spock had a deep fried peach on a stick.

He considered requesting that he be allowed to consume nothing else but deep fried peaches ever again. It was warm and tart-sweet, just at the edge of cooked, with a rich crackly brown coating around the outside. The only difficulty with the dessert, he decided, was that Michael had insisted he eat it directly off the stick, rather than locate a bowl and suitable utensils. Consequently, his attention was divided between walking and planning his bites to prevent the peach from falling off the stick, and more unpleasantly, his face and hands were growing sticky with oil and juice.

The situation was rapidly becoming unbearable. Spock finished the last couple of bites of peach and found a recycler for his stick, then shook out his hands in front of him. They grew stickier as they dried. His fingers were adhering to each other. He wiped them down the front of his winter cloak, which failed to remove any of the tacky juice from his hands. Instead, lint from the cloak attached itself to his fingers. He tried to flick the itchy threads off his hands to no avail, and in a moment of distraction wiped one sleeve across his face, transferring even more lint onto his lips and nose.

He became aware of his quickening breaths and told himself sternly that it was illogical to allow himself to be upset by mere physical discomfort. He needed to solve the problem. A sonic cleanser would be ideal, but he did not know where to find one in the alien quarter. Perhaps inside an eating establishment.

He backed through the door of a tea shop with his hands held up in front of him, the fingers spread so they wouldn't stick to each other, and tried not to look at the dark wisps of lint clinging to them. There was a bathroom around the corner. He backed into it and thoroughly cleaned his hands and face, then stripped off his cloak and folded it inside out so he wouldn't have to touch the peach juice and grease again. Once he was finished, he left the bathroom with the inside out cloak folded over his arm and only then realized he had no idea where Michael was.

A couple of Tellarite ladies had spotted him and were coming his way with disapproving looks on their faces and grabby looking hands. He ducked back out of the tea shop. The street was more crowded than he liked, and too many of the people walking up and down the sandstone brick pathways were not Vulcans. It was too loud with stompy feet in hard-soled shoes, talking pitched for less sensitive ears and washes of not-his happiness, excitement, or impatience prickling their way down his back.

He wiggled discomfort out of his shoulders and ran down a narrow alley into a much less crowded side street. then scooted himself onto a bench to settle his thoughts and decide what he ought to do next. The buildings here housed dull, adult things he had no interest in pursuing, but there was a small garden in a raised bed bounded by a retaining wall that might be interesting to explore. Insects and other small creatures tended to emerge in local winter to breed. Perhaps he could make some observations to report to his family after Sol located him.

He made the short walk to the garden, took out his datapad, and crawled in among the plants, careful not to disturb their roots.

*

Midwinter rainy season or not, Amanda found herself too overheated to continue after three dances. Sarek walked with her to a bench and left to get her a lemon shake up she'd seen at a stand not far from the courtyard. She was content to people watch for a while. Sarek returned briefly with her drink, brushed the back of her hand with his fingers, and melted back into the crowd, presumably to spend some of his accumulated arts credits at the craft stalls lining the street.

She was just about to take out a book when a flash of blue and white flitted through the crowd. The movement was familiar enough to catch her eye, so she was watching when a brown hand and foot appeared between bodies, then a puff of black hair, then Michael was standing in front of her, facing three quarters away and breathing hard. Her daughter hadn't yet seen her, but the tension in her body language suggested she wasn't merely playing.

"Michael!" she called out.

Michael whirled around to face her, mouth dropping open. Relief, disappointment, and guilt played across her face, one emotion replacing the other in a quick sequence while she stood, startled to stillness, in front of her. Then she broke into a run. "Amanda!"

"What is it, Michael?"

Michael visibly straightened and wiped her face smooth of emotion. "Spock is missing." She took a breath, possibly to organize her thoughts. "He has been out of my sight for twenty-two minutes. When last I saw him, I gave him a deep fried peach and told him to stay by me."

"All right," Amanda said. "Have you asked Sol where he is?"

Michael's shoulders sagged and her eyes dropped to the ground. "They went off to do teenager stuff when Birdie took Lala to the bathroom."

Sol and Malkie were hardly teenagers, as much as Malkie seemed to think she was. "Have a seat," Amanda said. "Let's think this through. If something happened to Spock, Sarek and Sol would both have already called security in to find him. We'll get Sarek and the three of us will have a look around. And then we will have a talk with your brother and Malkie about leaving you to look after Spock by yourself. Have you messaged Birdie yet?"

"No."

"All right, that's our next step. You sit right here and message Birdie. Stay put. I'll get your father."

Amanda scanned the crowd for Sarek's russet robes. He was standing at a craft stand, speaking with the proprietor as he tucked a wrapped package into a pocket. "My husband," she said.

"Amanda." He got a good look at her. "Something is wrong."

"The kids are here. Michael just found me."

Sarek raised an eyebrow. "May I surmise that Spock is missing again?" To her practiced eye, his expression took on a long suffering cast. "A moment." He looked off into middle distance. "He is in no distress. Shall we collect our daughter and assist in the search?" He accompanied her back to the bench where Michael was sitting, rod straight and wide eyed, her hands knotted in her lap.

Sarek nodded slightly at Michael and she stood, hands behind her back, mirroring his posture. "Have we attempted to locate Solomon and Malkiah?" he said coolly.

"They have not answered their messages," Michael said, attempting at disapproval but sounding more frustrated.

"I see."

"A deep fried peach on a stick?" Amanda asked.

Michael nodded miserably.

"I bet he went looking for a place to clean up. You know how he is about being messy. Can you take me back to where you bought the peaches? I'd bet he didn't get too far."

Michael caught her sleeve rather than her hand to drag her down the street to the food vendor's stall, then looked quickly about. "There," she said sharply, pointing to a tea shop marked with bright gold lettering. "He'd notice the sign. It's his favorite color."

"Good thinking."

Just outside the door, they nearly ran into a pair of Tellarite women standing side by side, arms akimbo, looking down a narrow alley. "Shameful, just shameful letting him run about like that," one said to the other.

"I do hope he's all right," the first said.

"Excuse me," Amanda said. "You sound like you might have seen a little boy--a little Vulcan boy--about so high?"

"Well, you're certainly not the mother. We should tell her you lost him."

"For your information, I am his mother, and I assume you don't have children or you would know how fast they are."

"Hmph," she said. "If I had children they would be better behaved."

Amanda did not have time for Tellarite recreational arguing. "Where did he go?" she said, enunciating each word.

"Down the alley at a run," the woman sniffed. She kept talking, but Amanda was done listening.

"Thank you," she said, still sharp voiced, and followed Michael down the alley to the next block over.

This block was much quieter, still a part of the alien quarter, but without the street fair. Michael peered down the length of the street from one end to the other, then took off running. Amanda shielded her eyes to see where she was going and saw three figures sitting on a low stone wall who looked to be the right size to be her children.

They were safe. She took a moment to message Birdie and Sarek with their location, then followed Michael at a more sedate pace, in part to give them a chance to catch up before she murdered her oldest child and his betrothed.

By the time they were half a dozen meters away it had to be clear to the children that they had been found, and to Sol at least that Amanda was Not Happy. Spock was walking along a narrow stone wall, arms spread for balance, while Sol and Malkie were having a conversation composed entirely of vague gestures that nonetheless clearly consisted of snotty remarks about passersby.

She walked deliberately into their sightline, folded her arms across her chest, and turned her maternal laser glare of doom on them. Michael, beside her, produced such a precise imitation of her stance and expression that Amanda found it hard to maintain the pose without laughing.

"What?" Malkie said crisply.

"You left Michael alone with Spock."

"And she went and lost him," Sol said. "Why aren't you mad at her?"

"Because you abandoned the two of them, even though you know it takes two people to watch Spock--"

"I don't need watching. I'm not a baby," Spock protested, jumping down from the wall to stand beside her. "I found Sol and Malkie myself."

Sarek's voice, quiet and firm, said from behind her, "Spock, come with me. There are matters we must discuss." Spock's eyes widened. He pinched his lips together in an approximation of his father's stony expression, then turned stiffly and walked away with him.

Just then, Birdie arrived at a jog, Lala perched on her hip. "Malkiah Lorenz, what's this I hear about you leaving Michael and Spock alone out here?"

"We only left for a minute because we saw somebody from school. It's not our fault they wandered off."

"Did you tell them you were leaving?"

"It was only a minute!"

Amanda was glad Sarek had found a reason to remove Spock from what was shaping up to be an emotional display, even if he was probably getting a lecture. Sol was getting that shrinky look he got when too many people around him were projecting conflicting emotions. He patted Malkie's hand hesitantly.

Malkie whirled on him, "I will be upset if I want to be upset, so quit it! It's not my fault your little brother doesn't have any sense!"

Sol snatched his hand away and turned his back on her.

Birdie sidled over to Amanda. "Do we know what happened?"

"The older two left Michael with Spock. He wandered off and she found me while looking for him."

Birdie looked firmly at Amanda. "I see. I've got this. You and Sarek get back to your date. We will all be going home. Solomon, Malkiah, you will be cleaning the workshop. Spock will stay home with Eli for the rest of the day, and Michael and Lala will accompany me to the arboretum."

Sarek returned with a chastened Spock at his side. He shuffled over to Michael and whispered, "I promise to stay beside you when you are watching me."

"Your promise is acceptable," Michael told him. "

"Are you sure, Birdie?" Amanda said.

"Go." She turned off down the street with the flock of children in tow.

Sarek appeared at her side. "Perhaps we should accompany them."

Amanda shook her head. "I think they've all been suitably chastened. What did you tell Spock?"

"I told him that he is old enough to listen to his elders and consider his actions before taking them. I also informed him that I will be placing him in wilderness survival classes beginning next month, along with the other children his age."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Amanda, Spock is no longer an infant, as he reminds us frequently. His peers are beginning the instruction that will lead to their Kahs-wan in two to three years."

"That is a dangerous tradition. I wish Spock didn't have to take part."

"Michael wishes to undergo the training as well."

Of course she did. Amanda could put her foot down, knowing that Sarek and Michael would wear her down over the next several weeks, or she could admit defeat now and negotiate better terms. "Fine, but I have conditions. First, she will complete the Kahs-wan at midwinter when she will not be at a severe disadvantage due to her species."

"Acceptable."

"Second, both she and Spock will wear tracking bracelets monitored at all times by the Embassy." Sarek looked as though she was about to protest and she cut him off. "This isn't to protect them from natural hazards, Sarek. For the same reason, the dates of their trials will be kept absolutely secret to everyone except ourselves, T'Pau and someone at the Embassy you select."

"You are concerned that someone who disapproves of the children's completing Vulcan rituals may seek to harm them."

"Can you blame me?"

"No, I cannot. I concur with the wisdom of your stipulations."

*

Embassy Security insisted on hearing from Sarek and Amanda in person to assure themselves that everyone was safe, and quite probably that Sarek had no plans to fire anyone overindulging the children's prank. The brief search for Spock in the alien quarter was another matter entirely, and one that occurred with such regularity that Amanda and the security officer assigned to monitor the family had code phrases worked out for the eventuality.

A bemused looking Tellarite in a coolsuit collected them from the security wing. "Come with me, please, you both have an additional responsibility to attend to."

"Of course," Sarek said. "Come, my wife." He tended to become much more traditional in diplomatic situations. She knew better than to tease him about it in front of a Tellarite, especially if they wanted to complete their remaining business quickly.

The Tellarite led them into the VIP suites. Amanda stopped him with a quiet, "Excuse me. If we are meeting with visiting dignitaries I would at least like a moment to freshen up."

"Well," the Tellarite sniffed, "You will be meeting privately with a planetary ambassador."

"A little more warning would have been nice," she said. "Might we have a few moments to put ourselves together?"

"There is a room for bathing and dressing in the VIP suite."

That's not what I meant, Amanda thought, but it was clear from their escort's brusque body language that arguing would not get her anywhere today. Sarek seemed to be of the same opinion since he didn't even try to change the man's mind. She caught him straining to get a look at himself in every reflective surface they passed. "You look fine," she told him.

Sarek studied her briefly. "Your hair has not remained entirely in its coif and you have clearly been exerting yourself." He twitched the corner of his mouth into a brief smile. "In short, you look even more attractive than usual."

"Ah, we're here. You may wish to call for food service to the room. I believe you are familiar with the procedure."

Amanda fought to control the blush that had risen on her cheeks after Sarek's comment. Their escort opened the door and hurried off. Amanda stepped into the room, concentrating on presenting a professional appearance, then noticed the room decor. "I'll be meeting with a planetary ambassador," she said.

"Indeed."

It looked like Valentine's Day had exploded all over the room's interior. Small paper flowers and Valentine hearts littered the floor and bedspread, pictures of kissing dinosaurs were affixed to the walls about a meter off the floor, and red, green, and white crepe spanned the room, some of it hanging low enough to drag across their shoulders.

She picked up a drawing of what appeared to be a Tyrannosaurus and a le matya locked in an amorous embrace. Maybe they were fighting. She hoped they were fighting.

She felt Sarek's breath on her shoulder. He leaned in to examine the picture. "An interesting if fantastical rendition," he said. "If I interpret the le matya's stance correctly, they are engaged in a mating dance."

"No more nature documentaries for Spock," Amanda said, then added, "I am joking, of course."

He lay one hand on the curve of her neck and reached around to pluck the drawing from her hands. "You understand that I wish him to prepare for the Kahs-wan in part because I wish him to be at lower risk from his roaming habit?"

Amanda chuckled. "I had not thought of it that way, no."

He placed the paper on a low table near them and turned her to face him. "I do not believe we were intended to spend the evening discussing the children," he said. "How might I assist you in refocusing your attention?"

She blushed. "Let me get cleaned up and then perhaps we can read together."

"I will endeavor to select something appropriate."

"You do that." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a coda to this, but it's explicit so I'm putting it in its own episode.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was supposed to be all about Sarek and Amanda finally getting some alone time. But it turned out to also be about developing changes in the relationship between Michael and Spock in this 'verse.
> 
> Consequently I've restructured it a bit. There will still be the promised smut, but it will be moved into its own standalone work within the series so that those who wish to avoid it will be able to.


End file.
